


all day i face a barren waste

by entwashian



Category: Wolf 359 (Radio)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Western, Canon-Typical Violence, Cowboys & Cowgirls, Gen, SI-5, but this is not a kepcobi fic, there may be kepcobi underpinnings because i can't help it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-31
Updated: 2020-03-31
Packaged: 2021-02-23 02:07:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23404033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/entwashian/pseuds/entwashian
Summary: Jacobi, Maxwell, & Kepler have been hired to protect a cattle ranch from rustlers."Daniel's been more merciful at times in the past, has done better, but he's done much worse, too."
Relationships: Daniel Jacobi & Alana Maxwell, Daniel Jacobi & Warren Kepler
Kudos: 15
Collections: Genprompt Bingo Round 17





	all day i face a barren waste

The bodies of his friends -- the men he swore to protect -- are buried deep in a coal mine under tons of unyielding rock. Daniel doesn't forget that, even as a cold wind whips past his own body, even though the only thing above him is the starry night sky as he runs his horse across an open plain. 

But just as Daniel can't forget about them, there's no way the rustler he's pursuing could know about all the people Daniel has already killed. There's no way the damn fool could know that Daniel never hesitates to shoot a fleeing man in the back. When he does, the damn fool is so surprised that he loses his mount, falling from a horse who doesn't seem bothered by the loss of a rider. The horse runs on, the sound of pounding hoofbeats eventually dropping off altogether. 

Daniel curses, pulls up on the reins to draw his own horse to a halt, and dismounts. He approaches the fallen rustler with a caution that turns out to be entirely unnecessary. The man is dead. 

Daniel takes the rope from his pack and binds the rustler's feet. He lashes the other end of the rope to his own saddle, seeing as the poor bastard's ride has bolted. It's cruel treatment even to the deceased, and Daniel's been more merciful at times in the past, has done better, but he's done much worse, too. He turns his horse back toward the ranch, and rides. 

When everything is finally settled, the body has been made someone else's responsibility, and his horse has been brushed down, Daniel finds Maxwell waiting for him in the bunkhouse. She's got trousers on, but both her chest and hair remain unbound, so it seems she was in no hurry to chase after him. 

"Son of a bitch," she hisses at Daniel before he can even sit down. The toe of her boot flies in a swift arc to connect with his shin. 

"Hey!" Daniel protests, because her boots are _heavy_ and now his shin _hurts_. 

"Don't make those big cow eyes at me," she warns. "You know exactly why I'm angry with you." She narrows her eyes to glare at him. "Or you ought to." 

Daniel scratches his fingertips up through his hairline, which itches under layers of drying sweat. "Yeah, sure," he says agreeably, "about that…" 

"Dammit, Jacobi!" Daniel flinches at the use of his surname and at the mottled flush creeping up Maxwell's neck. "You're my fucking partner! When you gallop off into the night, guns a-blazin', it's supposed to be by my side!" 

Daniel wants to make a flippant wisecrack, to shrug off her concerns, to be the callous son of a bitch that Maxwell has just named him to be, to do _anything_ to find a way out of this conversation. Then he looks up, sees the harsh line of Maxwell's eyebrows cutting sharply across her face, makes accidental eye contact, and sees the worry in her eyes. 

He does the worst thing he could possibly do in this situation: he blurts out the truth.

"I forgot." 

"You forgot you had a partner," Maxwell says flatly. She's beyond anger at this point. 

Daniel shrugs. In for a penny… "This whole partner thing is still new to me," he says. "I'm not used to factoring someone else into my decisions. I mean, I've worked with other people in the past, sure, but they were **shit** , Maxwell. I've never been able to rely on anyone. You have no idea -- going west of the Mississippi is like going through a stupidity sieve: only dumbasses can slip through."

"And what am I in this metaphor, Jacobi? The sediment stuck in the strainer?" 

"You're the exception, Alana. You're exceptional," Daniel affirms. 

Maxwell maintains her cold stare for a few moments longer. "You're still a son of a bitch," she says. 

"I'll do better," Daniel promises quietly, as if a promise spoken at a lower volume is an indicator of a lower level of commitment to its ideals. Daniel is not in the habit of swearing oaths that he intends to keep, and he's not even sure he wants to try to keep this one. 

Maxwell takes a breath, but before she can respond, the door to the bunkhouse creaks open. "Sir," she says, straightening where she stands.

"Isn't this cozy?" says a familiar drawl from behind Daniel's shoulder. 

"Sir," Daniel echoes, turning to face his boss. 

"Fine work tonight, Mr. Jacobi," Kepler says, stepping fully into the room as the door swings shut behind him. He pauses. The lamplight simultaneously haloes his head and casts his entire face in shadow. 

Daniel has no doubt that's exactly why he positioned himself in such a way. Daniel sighs, deliberately chooses to look at the wall instead of a scene staged for his benefit. "Still lost twenty head, I hear." 

"Yes," Kepler allows, "of _cattle_. You found a much more valuable prize during your nocturnal operations. Mr. Cutter will be very pleased." 

"I don't give a damn what pleases Cutter," Daniel says, trying to share a glance with Maxwell, only to find that she's disappeared. Traitor. It might be what he deserves, though.

"You have delivered that message several times to Mr. Cutter's own person," Kepler says, amusement threading through his voice. "Perhaps any chance at circumspection is long since past." 

"Wasn't hired for my circumspection, sir," Daniel reminds Kepler, whose face remains dark in silhouette. 

"You weren't at that, Mr. Jacobi," Kepler replies. He's in a jovial mood, making allowances for Daniel's terse disposition. Of course, Kepler could also be mocking Daniel. He's never failed to add the honorific to Daniel's family name. Maybe it's a nod to the fact that Daniel grew up in civilization, when most of the men they work with have never so much as visited New England. Maybe it's respect that Daniel has earned a college degree (whether or not he'll ever be allowed to use that knowledge again). Maybe it's derision for one or both of those things. Maybe it's a taunt, a constant reminder that Daniel has never achieved military rank like the rest of the men in his family, and that he never will. 

"Was there anything else that needed to be done tonight?" Daniel asks pointedly. He has no idea how he keeps getting trapped in these labyrinth conversations, no exit in sight. And he has a feeling Maxwell isn't finished with him yet.

"No, nothing else," Kepler says, shifting his body toward the door. His face is bathed in golden light. "Just the commendation and approbation of your fine work." 

Daniel hates how it makes his chest feel warm and tight. Hates how the heat suffuses through his jaw and goes to his head. "Thank you, sir," he says, forcing out the words through the compression of his throat. 

The sound of them is more sincere than he had intended.

**Author's Note:**

> For the [](https://genprompt-bingo.dreamwidth.org/profile)[](https://genprompt-bingo.dreamwidth.org/)**genprompt_bingo** square "Cowboy AU."


End file.
